An OUAT time-travel fix-it, but it's Gold waking up just after the seer girl told him his prophecy and going, no way in the realms I'm doing this again. And he charges into battle with the rest of the soldiers, expecting to die and leave things to run their curse. Bae would be raised by Milah... Or by Rumple's aunties. Anyways, they'd do a better job, at least they would keep him in the right realm. And Zoso so surely would find someone else to free him and take the curse in his stead.
Probably no one would help Cora to spin yarn into gold, since that was his thing.
And Regina perhaps wouldn't be born? Or maybe she'd have another father.
Zeline would probably find her way around Oz. It was unlikely, anyways, for them to learn magic.
Well, perhaps Regina would, she was a natural.
But she may never marry Mary Margaret's father. The Charmings would definitely find their way to each other and Emma would be born.
Henry, though... Baelfire would never meet Emma. Perhaps she'd find Hook sooner? Or not... He was also the reason for Killian dealing with Pan and living so long.
Anyways, it would no longer be any of his business.
Except, Rumple has always been a pest, one very difficult to kill. He can't help himself, trying to survive is second nature, he's been doing it for too long.
He was the most surprised when he found himself back in camp, tired and worn out, but still alive.
He had learned many things in his long life, not all of it magic. Sword fighting was one of those things, his pride never allowing him to forget the humiliation Hook put him trough, giving him a sword he couldn't even lift.
And even if this body wasn't trained, his mind had the experience.
With a heavy mind he walked away from the remaining fighters to the most isolated corner he could find. Of course, it was next to the seer's cage.
With nothing better to do, he struck a conversation with the girl, eventually befriending her and growing close to the child.
By the time his service was over, the war had actually been won, don't ask him how, he doesn't even know.
He arrived to his old town with money, condecorations he did not want to talk about and, most important, a blind seer girl.
He arrived to an empty and messy house, neither Milah nor Bae were in sight.
Concerned, he went to his aunties. The reunion was tearful, if rushed, Rumple torn between the happiness of reuniting with them and the worry for his son.
Fortunately, Baelfire was there, three years old, looking up at the stranger who was his father with curiosity and a bit of wariness.
Milah, it turned out, was at a bar. Apparently, some things really did not change.
Rumple frankly didn't care. This time he would just wait for Hook to appear and whisk her away.
Except, whatever Milah had done once to get the pirate's attention, it seemed she wasn't able to replicate it.
Rumple had moved back with his aunties, taking Bae and the little seer with him. Both women were delighted, the house was loud and full again.
Milah stayed in the house Rumple had built for them. Rumple took Bae to see her, if she was well enough. He never left him alone with her, though.
Therefore, it was quite confusing to hear knocking on his door in the middle of the night and find a drunken Milah practically falling off of Killian's shoulder.
Killian had dragged Milah from the bar to what she told her was her house. Or where she guided them. The pirate had half a mind to believe she'd made him knock on the door of a complete stranger, but once a man opened the door, clearly recognising Milah, he could at least rest easy knowing his current predicament was close to an end.
And then a small, sleepy voice, called for his dad from upstairs.
Rumple went to Bae, reassuring him and putting him back to sleep. When he returned to the pirate's side, instead of letting Milah in, he got out of the house.
He wrapped one arm over Milah's shoulders, supporting her weight from the opposite side of the pirate.
When Killian questioned him about why Rumple couldn't just get her in his house, he was told firmly:
"I don't want my children to see her like this."
They arrived to the house and put Milah to bed. She quickly fell asleep and Rumple guided Killian outside, thanking him for bringing her back safely. Even so, Rumple'd be staying the night, someone had to check Milah wouldn't hurt herself.
The pirate left, but not without asking the man's name, giving his own in return.
And you'd think that'd be the end of it. But the pirate couldn't stop thinking about the big, tired eyes that changed from annoyance to warm concern upon hearing a tiny voice asking for his dad.
So, he decided his men could benefit from some more time on land. Meanwhile, he asked around town, trying to understand Rumplestinking and Milah's relationship.
Something bitter and acidic accumulated in the back of his throat when an old woman told him they were married. But it left once she explained how they'd been separated since long ago, Rumple taking care of Milah only for his son's sake.
Then he heard about his role in the war against the ogres. He also learned a bit of his past, how his mother left when he was a baby, and his father when he was a child. A man who had been abandoned by each of his parents. A soldier. A father. One that had a worse than bad relationship with his wife, but cared solely about his child.
Except... hadn't he said children?
The man smoking against the wall smiled softly, an odd expression in his rugged face.
But indeed, Rumple had children, the boy he'd had with his wife and a girl he'd adopted during the war.
When Killian stumbled with Rumplestinking in the market, it had been an "accident"; one with a specific timetable formed after a full week of stalking careful investigation.
There was the man with big, copper eyes, one of his hands holding onto a girl with a blindfold over her eyes, a smile on his face while he watched his son run around the stalls.
Then a scandal arose and a man snatched the money pouch that hung around the girl's neck. She tumbled forward, but was jacked back and caught by her caretaker who frantically started checking on her. Rumple's son had run back, worriedly trying to assess his sister's condition.
Killian was about to jump in. He'd punch the thief, recover the money and give it back to the man with his usual ruggish grin. It always worked to impress the ladies.
It would had worked better had he gotten to the thief before Rumple did. Killian watched as the short man dragged his attacker into an alley, somehow escaping everyone's notice. He followed, a bit worried for the short man. His concern, it turned out, was unnecessary. Nonetheless, he was happy he got to watch the show.
Rumple had no qualms with beating that man bloody and leaving him there as a lump of limbs and bruises. Not even the few hits the other had gotten in seemed to deter the brown eyed man from his own goal of getting back at the asshole who'd decided to hurt his little girl.
When Rumple was done, a satisfied little smirk and the recovered money pouch in his hand, he turned to get out of the alley, only to find a pirate gawking at him from the entrance.
That... Than couldn't be good for him. At least he seemed more surprised than indignant.
Rumple couldn't exactly play this off, especially if the other had been watching from the beginning.
Before the shorter man got a word in, the pirate let out a breathy laugh.
"Well..." Killian said. "I guess my services aren't needed."
"Is that so?" Rumple replied amused, arching an eyebrow. He walked past the pirate, wishing to go back to his kids.
The other man walked behind him, seemingly content on following Rumple.
Ultimately, the four of them spent the day in the market.
CW: character death, violence, threat, child endangerment
Episode Eight: Desperate Souls
In The Enchanted Forest
A fully human Rumplesiltskin is spinning straw in a humble, old cottage as his son frantically rushes inside.
“Papa! Papa! They’ve come for Moraine,” he cries out as he drags his father outside. In the village, they watch as several knights pull a young girl away from her family while she thrashes and screams. You, looking a little younger and more pessimistic towards mortal life, watch from just behind them.
“No!” Screams the girl’s mother while she clings to her husband's arm.
“No! Please, please!”
“No! No, don’t take her! No! No, you can’t take her! She’s my baby! Don’t take my baby!” They both wail as the knights smirk and goad them.
“Nonsense. She’s a fine, strong girl. She’ll make a fine soldier.”
“It’s a mistake - she’s turning fourteen. Only fourteen,” her father begs, but it falls on deaf ears.
“Orders of the Duke! The Ogre Wars have taken their toll this season. More troops will turn the tide,” he announces.
“They lowered the age again, Papa.”
“I know.”
“That poor girl,” you mutter as you step closer, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a protective manner.
“Take her.” The order goes out and the other knights grab the girl. “She’ll ride with me,” the man smirks as she is shoved onto the back of his horse.
“No!”
“You can’t have her!” The girl’s father cries as the mother draws a knife and lunges towards the knight. Suddenly, she and the girl’s father are stopped by an invisible force, lurking in the field behind them is a figure dressed in a cloak on a black horse, who appears to be the one controlling them. With a measly flick of the wrist, the woman and man wither on the ground.
“The Dark One seems to think I can,” the Hordor cackles while the dark figure relents and the knights ride off, taking the girl with them.
“My birthday’s in three days. They’ll come for me in three days!” The boy wails as he turns to you and hugs you, his face only reaching your stomach as you hold his head.
“We’ll find a way. We’ll find a way,” Rumplestiltskin whispers as he looks between the boy, his son, and you.
In Storybrooke Maine, In The Real World
Mr. Gold is covering a piece of cloth with lanolin in the back room of his pawn shop, whistling as Emma enters through the front door, calling out for him.
“Gold! In here?”
“Well, it is my shop,” he quips from the back room, Emma rolls her eyes and walks back there to find him.
“Whoa! What is that?” She asks while covering the lower part of her face.
“Oh, this is lanolin - used it for waterproofing,” he explains as he puts the cloth down for the moment.
“It smells like livestock.”
“Well, it is the reason why sheep’s wool repels water.” He shrugs while walking around the display cases to speak with her.
“It stinks. Um, if there was a reason you called the Sheriff’s Department… If you want to talk about it quickly-”
“Yes.”
“Or outside…” Emma urges.
“I just wanted to, uh, express my condolences, really. The Sheriff was a good man. You’re still wearing the Deputy’s badge. Well, he’s been gone two weeks now, and I believe that after two weeks of acting as Sheriff, the job becomes yours. You’ll have to wear the real badge,” he informs while Emma stiffens as she recounts the event. And then she remembers how you’d shut down socially after it.
“Yeah, I guess. I’m just not in a hurry. So, um, thank you for the kind words,” she says blankly while beginning to leave and heads back to the main part of the shop, but Mr. Gold follows her.
“I have his things,” he comments as he goes to his counter.
“What?”
“The Sheriff. He rented an apartment that I own. Another reason for my call, really. I wanted to offer you a keepsake,” he explains, referring to a box of Graham’s belongings on the counter.
“I don’t need anything.”
“As you wish. Well, give them to Mayor Mills. Seems like she was the closest thing he had to family,” he smiles with mock innocence, pretending to be clueless to how unhealthy their relationship was.
“I’m not sure about that.”
“No love lost there, I see,” he nods, “look, I feel that all of this stuff is headed for the trash bin - you really should take something. Look - his jacket,” he offers.
“No.”
“Well, look. Your boy might like these, don’t you think? You could play together,” Mr. Gold suggests as he holds up a pair of walkie talkies, they’re scratched and a little old, but perfect for a ten year old who believes that they are on a spy mission.
“I don’t-”
“No, please. They… They grow up so fast,” he begs, remembering his own boy.
“Thanks.” Emma mutters as she takes the walkie talkies.
“You enjoy these with your boy. Your time together is precious, you know? That’s the thing about children - before you know it, you lose them.”
Emma meets you and Henry at his playground castle, bringing the walkie talkies with her and sits down next to you both. You stay silent for the most part, staring into the distance.
“Brought you something. Thought we could use them together for Operation Cobra,” she offers as she passes one of them to him.
“Thanks,” he murmurs.
“Oh, come on! What’s up? You’ve been ducking me for weeks,” she complains as Henry looks up at you and leans against you, noticing how badly this is still affecting you.
“I think we should stop Cobra stuff for a while,” he admits, “you don’t play with the curse. Look what happened to Graham,” he explains as you snap back into the conversation.
“He should have lived a longer life, our interference did more damage than good,” you comment, feeling wholly guilty for his death.
“Henry, [name], I told you they did an autopsy. It was totally natural causes,” she tries to explain but neither of you are really paying attention.
“Okay, whatever. You don’t believe - good. That should keep you from messing with it. And getting killed,” he scoffs.
“Henry…”
“Good loses - good always loses. Because good has to play fair - evil doesn’t. She’s evil. This is probably best. I don’t want to upset her anymore,” he explains as he hands back the walkie talkie and storms off, shocking Emma and effectively waking you up from your moping.
Emma throws her keys on her desk at the station where the Sheriff’s badge is waiting for her. She sighs and reaches for it, but then Regina walks in behind her.
“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s not for you,” she says with mock sympathy as she struts over.
“It’s been two weeks - promotion’s automatic.”
“Unless the Mayor appoints someone else within the time period, which I’m doing today,” she announces with a grin, enjoying having the upper hand again.
“So, who’s it going to be?”
“After due reflection - Sidney Glass,” she continues to smile brightly.
“Sidney from the newspaper? How does that even make sense?” She questions as she leans against her desk, knowing that he’s most likely just going to be a mouthpiece for Regina to keep control.
“Well, he’s covered the Sheriff’s Office as long as anyone can remember,” she explains, a weak argument at best, but she is the mayor and therefore her arguments can be whatever she needs them to be.
“And he’ll do whatever you want him to. You just cannot stand the fact that things have been getting better around here, can you?” Emma questions sarcastically, crossing her arms.
“Better? Are you referring to Graham’s death as ‘better’?” Regina responds, clearly misinterpreting her words, a political campaign already starting.
“No.”
“He was a good man, Miss Swan,” she scolds, “he made this town safe, and forgive me for saying it, but you have not earned the right to wear his badge.”
“Graham picked me to be Deputy,” she argues.
“He was wrong.”
“No. He knew what he was doing. He freed this office from your leash. You’re not getting it back,” she points out as she stands up, forcing a calm tone because does she ever find this woman infuriating and a little scary.
“Actually, I just did. Miss Swan, you’re fired,” Regina orders as she snatches the Sheriff’s badge off the desk and leaves.
You and Mary Margaret walk into her apartment to find Emma attempting to pry open her toaster with a knife, music blaring with a half-full bottle of whiskey on the table. You cringe at how loud it is and turn the music off before walking over to Emma and taking the knife from her hand.
“Come on, Swan, productive ways of handling emotions,” you remind her as you sit down next to her, having convinced her to help you with your poor dealing with Graham’s passing.
“Toaster broken?” Mary Margaret asks as she sets her belongings down, glad that you’re in a better place and you’re slowly going back to trying to help everyone else.
“It wasn’t when I started with it. Pretty sure it is now. Just needed to hit something,” Emma explains while you take her hand, letting her squeeze it if it helps get her aggression out.
“What’s going on?” She asks as she sits opposite the two of you.
“Regina fired me so she could put one of her puppets in as Sheriff. It’s my job,” she argues as she tenses up, just so angry about this.
“That is truly horrible, Emma. But I must ask, what changed? You have never spoken so passionately about this job?” You question delicately.
“I don’t know, I just… I know I want it back.” Emma mumbles to which you and Mary Margaret give each other a glance, not believing that there is no reasoning behind her possession over this job.
“There must be a reason,” Mary Margaret comments when somebody knocks on the door
“Maybe I just want to beat her,” she mutters as she answers the door, finding Mr. Gold behind it, holding a large binder.
“Good evening, Miss Swan. Sorry for the intrusion. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you,” he greets with that innocent smile, so different from how you knew him.
“I’ll let you two talk,” Mary Margaret mumbles as she leaves the room, but you refuse to, if he’s here, then something big must be happening.
“Come on in,” Emma offers as she holds open the door for him.
“Thank you. I, uh… I heard about what happened. Such an injustice.” He comments as he takes a seat next to you, you roll your eyes but let him. He’s been good to you during the curse, even when he woke you, so you’ll be civil.
“Yeah, well, what’s done is done,” Emma sighs while leaning against the counter, in front of the very beaten up toaster.
“That cannot be the best attitude to hold,” you comment which earns a nod from Mr. Gold and a light glare from Emma.
“Spoken like a true fighter,” he adds.
“I don’t know what chance I have. She’s Mayor and I’m, well, me,” she argues while tapping her heel against the floor.
“Miss Swan, two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy can accomplish even more. How would you like a benefactor?” He asks as you a raise an eyebrow, growing suspicious yet intrigued about his schemes.
“A benefactor?” You and Emma ask in sync, with you sounding more amused while she sounds confused.
“You mind?” He states, urging her to sit with you as he puts the binder on the table and opens in, flipping through the pages.
“You know, it really is quite shocking how few people study the town charter,” Mr. Gold comments while scanning over each word with a grin.
“The town charter?”
“Well, it’s quite comprehensive. And the Mayor’s authority? Well, maybe she’s not quite as powerful as she seems.”
In The Enchanted Forest
You and Rumplestiltskin approach his sleeping boy and try to wake him up, you cup his head and stroke his hair while Rumplestiltskin kneels to his level.
“Bae. Bae. Waken up, son. Come on. Waken up, son. We’re going now. We’re going now! Come on. Come on!” He whisper yells as his son, Baelfire, opens his eyes with a yawn and shuffles out of bed as you put a cloak on him as you all leave.
The three of you walk through the woods with your belongings, you taking the lead, staying slow enough for the father and son to keep up with.
“It feels wrong to run away,” Baelfire comments as he rubs his eyes, still shaking off the sleep that he was ripped from.
“Sometimes the smartest move is to retreat, Baelfire,” you comment, “this is to keep you safe, it is all we can do,” you try to comfort, though your skills at understanding human nature is limited.
“It’s worse to die, son. I’m not having you taken away to the Ogre Wars,” his father responds as he rests a hand on his back. You continue your walk in near silence, only exchanging moments of conversation before you come across a beggar sitting on the side of the path.
“Alms for the poor? Alms for the poor?” He asks as you walk by, stopping in front of him.
“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin says as he gives the man a few coins, as do you, and you pass Baelfire a few so he can do the same.
“Oh! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he smiles as the other two start walking again, but you stay stood there for a moment, confused by the complexities of humans and their hierarchies, and give him a blessing of luck and fortune before you smile at him and keep walking, soon catching up with them.
“Are we sure there’s no other way?” Baelfire asks again as he wraps his cloak around him, trying to fight the night cold.
“Oh, I can’t lose you, Bae. You’re all I’ve got left, son. You don’t understand what war is like - what they do to you.” Rumplestiltskin confesses as the sound of approaching horses creeps up on you.
“Quick - hide! In the ditch - hide! Go, go! Go!” He yells out in a panic, but it is too late. You were seen.
“Stop right there!” The Hordor commands as he and several knights on horseback surround you.
“What are you doing on the King’s realm?” He questions as the knights get closer.
“We have some wool to sell at the fair in Longbourne,” Rumplestiltskin quickly lies while keeping his gaze down, not wanting to offend the Hordor with his eyes daring to reach him.
“I know you, don’t I?” He asks with a sneer, getting off his horse and stepping towards Rumplestiltskin.
“What was your name, hm? Spindleshanks? Threadwhistle? Hobblefoot?” He mocks as he steps closer with every cruel guess. Baelfire, unable to listen to anyone mock his father, steps forward.
“His name is Rumplestiltskin,” you immediately cover his mouth with your hand.
“Hush, boy!” Rumplestiltskin hisses silently.
“Rumpel- Ah, the man who ran. Is this your boy?” He questions, turning his gaze to Baelfire, “how old is he? What’s your name?”
“I’m Baelfire and I’m thirteen,” he claims proudly, pushing your hand away, wanting to appear more mature.
“When’s your birthday, boy?” He continues to prod, the tense atmosphere making you find it difficult to breathe.
“In two days time.”
“Baelfire,” you scold softly, covering up his mouth again.
“Hush, boy!” Rumplestiltskin hisses again, this time louder, more desperate. The Hordor looks from Baelfire to you upon hearing your voice, a sick grin crossing his face as he looks you up and down before he looks back at Rumplestiltskin.
“Did you teach him to run as well, Rumplestiltskin? Did he tell you? Did he tell you how he ran and the ogres turned the tide of battle, and all the others were killed, and he returned home to a wife who could not bear the sight of him?” The Hordor goads, dropping this knowledge on both you and Baelfire, who grips onto you.
“Please…”
“You see, women do not like to be married to cowards,” he continues, not hearing or not caring to hear Rumpelstiltskin's pleas.
“Please don’t speak to my boy like that.”
“It’s treason to avoid service. Take the boy now,” he demands. You clutch Baelfire close to you, hunched up and ready to attack anyone who dares touch him.
“No, no, no, no!” Rumplestiltskin wails, “what do you want?”
“What do I want,” he wonders with a sarcastic sigh, “you have no money, no influence, no land, no title, no power. The truth is, all you really have is fealty.” He sighs, “kiss my boot.”
“I don’t understand-”
“You asked my price. Kiss my boot,” the Hordor demands, his face curling into a sinister smile.
“Not in front of my boy-”
“Kiss my boot!” He snaps as Rumplestiltskin reluctantly kneels down in the mud, you cover Baelfire’s eyes, not wanting him to have this image of his father in his head. Rumplestiltskin kisses the Hordors boot. He and all the other knights laugh, the sound echoing in his ears as he kicks Rumplestiltskin in the stomach and he falls to the ground with a gag, Baelfire rips from your arms when he hears the sound.
“Papa!” He screams as you both kneel at his side while Hodor and his men leave on their horses.
You all flinch as you hear someone else approaching you, but a familiar voice puts you at ease.
“No, no, no! No! It’s okay. Let me help you. Let me help you home,” the beggar from earlier insists as he helps Rumplesiltskin sit up.
“Thank you, good sir,” you mutter as the three of you gather your bearings.
“I don’t have any money to pay you,” Rumplestiltskin admits, ashamed that he’s being seen in this state, especially by you and his boy.
“I can think of another way. You just leave me whatever you can spare, and I’ll find a way to be your benefactor. Come.”
In Storybrooke Maine, In The Real World
Regina, Sidney, and several news reporters are gathered in Regina’s office, snapping photos of her as she delivers a speech.
“Everyone deserves to feel safe in their own homes. That’s why Sidney Glass is my choice for the post of Sheriff. This man has put the needs of Storybrooke above his own for as long as any of us can remember as Chief editor of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror. Please welcome your new Sheriff!” Regina announces, going to pin the Sheriff’s badge on him when Emma storms in.
“Hang on a second.”
“Oh, Miss Swan, this is not appropriate,” she says mockingly, hoping to humiliate her, but Emma seems determined.
“The only thing not appropriate is this ceremony. She does not have the power to appoint him,” Emma claims with confidence, the news reporters flipping their focus to her.
“The town charter clearly states that the Mayor shall appoint-”
“A candidate. You could appoint a candidate. It calls for an election,” she specifies with a grin, tugging the power back.
“The term ‘candidate’ is applied loosely.”
“No, it’s not. It requires a vote. And guess what, Madame Mayor? I’m running,” she goads, crossing her arms as reporters snap her photo.
“Fine. So is Sidney,” she orders to a very confused Sidney who follows her with his eyes.
“I am?” He mutters but is silenced with her glare. “I am,” he affirms.
“With my full support. I guess we’ll learn a little something about the will of the people,” Regina smiles, her jaw clenched.
“I guess we will.”
In The Enchanted Forest
Rumplestiltskin and the beggar sit by a fire eating stew, Baelfire is sleeping while you lean against a tree, fully awake and aware, just in a trance - a way for you to absorb the information of the day while remaining able to defend yourself and others at any time.
“Another day gone. There’ll be no fleeing now,” Rumplestiltskin admits to the beggar, sighing as he pushes his stew around.
“No. You need to find another way. You need to choose a different path,” the beggar advises as he looks into the sky, watching the stars.
“Choose? What choice do I have?”
“Everyone has a choice,” he affirms.
“I’m the town coward. The only choice I have is which corner to hide in. I’m lame, friendless, aside from [name]... The only thing I’ve got is them and my boy. And they’re going to take him from me. If they take him away, I would truly, truly become dust.” He explains miserably, glancing at you, then into the fire.
“Not if you have power.”
“You might as well say diamonds,” Rumplestiltskin scoffs as he curls in on himself, greatly irritating the man.
“Get a hold of yourself! Think. Why do you think that someone as powerful as the Dark One would work for a useless fool like the Duke of the Frontlands?” He argues as Rumplestiltskin shrinks away.
“Tell me.”
“The Duke has the Dark One in thrall. He’s enslaved him with the power of a mystical dagger, and on the blade is written a name - the true name of the Dark One. If you steal the dagger, then you would be able to control the Dark One yourself. And then no one would be able to take your son away from you,” he explains like this is all common knowledge.
“To keep a man like the Dark One as a slave? No, I… I-I can’t. I’d be terrified,” he mumbles as he picks at his clothes.
“Then, perhaps, instead of controlling the power, you need to take it.”
In Storybrooke Maine, In The Real World
Mr. Gold sits in his pawn shop, staring intently at the flame from a lighter when Regina storms in and he puts out the fire.
“Regina,” he greets in his innocent tone as she flips the sign to ‘closed’. “Shall I move some things? Make a bit of space for your rage?” He mocks while watching her clench her firsts and stomp towards him.
“You found that loophole in the town charter,” she accuses, barely containing her anger.
“Legal documents - contracts, if you like, Always been a fascination of mine,” he sighs fondly, fingers tracing over that lighter.
“Yes, you love to trifle with technicalities.”
“I like small weapons, you see. The needle, the pen, the fine point of a deal. Subtly - not your style, I know,” he teases just to watch that vein in her forehead bulge.
“You’re a bastard.”
“I think your grief’s getting the better of you, Regina. Shame what happened to Graham,” he frowns as he leans against the counter, shrugging.
“Don’t you talk about him. You know nothing,” she snaps, clearly the wound is still tender.
“What is there to know? He died.”
“Are you really going up against me?” She questions sceptically, trying to focus on something other than her rage.
“Not directly. We are, after all, both invested in the common good. We’re just picking different sides,” he explains with a grin.
“Well, I think you picked a really slow horse this time. It’s not like you to back a loser,” she teases in an attempt to reclaim some pride.
“She hasn’t lost yet.”
“She will.” Regina asserts while crossing her arms, very confident that she will get Sidney to win for her.
“Never underestimate someone who’s acting for their child,” he warns as a frown rests on his face.
“He’s not her child. Not legally,” she argues.
“Oh, now who’s trifling with technicalities.”
Henry is sitting in a booth in Granny’s Diner with a mug of cocoa you served him, your first day back since Graham… But you’re here now. Henry reads a newspaper as Emma enters the diner, giving you a wave as she sits down next to him.
“How was school?” She asks him, hoping that he’d be feeling a little better after the last time they spoke.
“Okay.”
“You’re reading that paper pretty hard,” she comments, peeking over his shoulder.
“Sidney wrote it,” he mumbles as he passes it to her. She is yet again on the front page, carrying the headline ‘Ex-Jailbird - Emma Swan babe behind bars’.
“Is it a lie?” He asks as he leans against her to keep looking at the paper.
“No.”
“I was born in jail?” He repeats the headline in shock.
“Yes. These records were supposed to be sealed. Tell me you’re not scarred for life,” she half jokes, half begs.
“I’m not. Well, not by this,” he shrugs and gives her a little grin.
“Good. Then, let’s throw this out and we will get our news from something more reliable. Like the internet,” she quips and he chuckles.
“This is what I’ve been trying to tell you - good can’t be evil, because good doesn’t do this kind of thing. My mom plays dirty - that’s why you can’t beat her. Ever,” he warns, really taking this hit from Graham’s death deeply.
“I have a new ally. Mr. Gold said he’s going to help.”
“Mr. Gold? He’s even worse than she is. You already owe him one favour. You don’t want to owe him any more. Don’t do this,” he begs but by now it’s too late.
Emma walks into Regina’s office, now alone, and slams the paper down on her desk.
“This was a juvie record. This was sealed by court order. I don’t know how you got it, but that’s abuse of power and illegal,” Emma spits as she watches Regina shrug and smile at her reaction.
“Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t want people to know you cut his cord with a shiv?” She mocks, enjoying how easily she can rile her up.
“I don’t care what people know, but this hurts Henry,” she scolds.
“He would’ve learned eventually. We all lose our heroes at some point,” Regina says carelessly as the two exit the office and walk through the building.
“He doesn’t need to lose anything more. He’s depressed, Madame Mayor. He doesn’t have any… Any hope. Don’t you see that?” She questions desperately, searching for some humanity in this woman.
“He’s fine.”
“He’s not fine. I mean, think about it. Watching his adoptive mother throw an illegal smear campaign against his birth mother? You don’t think that would be upsetting? Emma asks as she barely keeps up with her, feeling more like a nuisance to her than a threat.
“All I did was expose him to the truth. And as for the legality - I did nothing wrong. But you and Sidney will have a chance to get into all that at the debate,” she explains while waving her hand dismissively, seemingly uncaring of her son’s state of being.
“Debate?”
“Yes, Miss Swan, there’s a debate. You two can talk about jail time and juvie records and maybe even your new association with Mr. Gold. He’s a snake, Miss Swan. You need to be careful who you get into bed with,” Regina warns with a smirk, finding pleasure in watching Emma walk into a situation she is entirely unprepared for.
“I’m not getting into bed with anyone,” Emma argues, “I’m just fighting fire with-” she states as Regina opens the door, cut off by the sound of an explosion that sets the next room on fire, heat and smoke pouring out into the rest of the building. Emma and Regina are thrown back from the blast and debris starts crashing down around them, smashing into Regina’s ankle and breaking it, trapping her there. Emma scrabbles to get back to her feet and pries her free.
“Alright, come on - let’s go! We have to get out of here,” she cries while trying to pull Regina to her feet, but she hisses in pain, unable to move her foot.
“I can’t move! You have to get me out. Help me!”
In The Enchanted Forest
You, Baelfire, and Rumplestiltskin stand outside a large building, hidden in the woods as you make what appears to be torches using wool.
“Keep that fire good and stoked, Bae. The sheep’s fat needs to be liquid to get that wool good and soaked,” he explains as he looks up at the building.
“Why are we doing this, Papa? This is good wool. We can spin and sell-”
“These are our keys to the castle, son. And once I’m inside - something I have to take,” he smiles which shocks you and Baelfire.
“What do you need to take?” You question, following his gaze with uncertainty.
“That old beggar? He told me a fine tale - about the Duke and his magical dagger,” he announces while you frown, concerned about this tale and what he is willing to do.
“What does it do?” Baelfire asks with matching concern, not liking anything to do with the Duke who would send him to war tomorrow.
“If I own that dagger, I control the Dark One. If I kill the Dark One with the dagger, I take his powers,” he says while you stare at him, shaking your head just a little. There is one thing you have never touched in all your years - dark magic. And now your friend, the man who gave you a place to stay after you crashed into this realm, is turning to it.
“By god’s name,” Baelfire mutters in disbelief.
“Imagine me with those powers. Can you imagine me with those powers, Bae? [Name]? I could redeem myself. I could turn it towards good. I’ll save all the children of the Frontlands - not just you, my boy,” he claims with the utmost confidence, and you’re sure that he could with those powers, and in this endeavour you will help him, but if he begins to slide into the darkness, then you will have no choice but to move on.
“I’d love to see that, but if the law says I’m to fight, I… I can fight,” he tries to convince himself, wanting to protect his family and people the honourable way.
“No, no, no! The law doesn’t want you to fight, son. The law wants you to die. That’s not battle - that’s sacrifice, son. You look at that red in the sky. That’s not the… The fires of the battlefield - that’s the blood of our people, son. It’s the blood of children. Children like you. I mean, what sane person would want to get involved with that?” He rants as he watches the sky, the red bleeding into the black night sky, it’s sickening.
“So, it’s true.”
“What?” Rumplestiltskin mutters as he looks back at his son.
“It’s true. It’s true you ran.”
“I had no choice, son,” he confesses as if begging for his boy to forgive his cowardice.
“And Mother? Did she leave you like the knight said? You told me she was dead,” he argues as he frowns, beginning to question everything he had told him.
“She is dead.”
“So, what do we need to do?” You ask after a moment of awkward silence had come, suffocating you in its presence.
“The Duke’s castle is made of stone, but the floors and the rafters are made of wood,” he explains, painting a painfully clear picture in your head.
“Why does that matter?”
“Becuase wood burns.”
In Storybrooke Maine, In The Real World
Regina and Emma are still stuck in the burning Town Hall, Emma tries to leave, but Regina digs her nails into her arm, pulling her back.
“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” She questions as Emma breaks free from her grasp, walking into the next room where the fire has consumed all the furniture and paintings. Regina struggles and fails to get up on her own, letting out a pained cry as Emma comes back with a fire extinguisher, getting the fire somewhat under control as she clears the way to an exit. With a relieved sigh, Regina puts her arm around Emma’s shoulder and the two hobble out of the building where reporters are waiting for them, snapping their photos as they escape. Sirens are heard in the background as you sprint towards them, still in your uniform.
“Oh, ow, ow! My ankle! Set me down gently!” Regina yelps as you help Emma set her down, checking them both for any other serious injuries, luckily only finding signs of being overheated and breathing in smoke for a short period of time.
“Seriously? You’re complaining about how I saved your life?” Emma asks in irritation, finally letting go of her and letting herself be checked over by you, noticing the worry on your face.
“The firemen are here. It’s not like we were really in danger,” she huffs.
“Fine. Next time I’ll just… I’ll just… Ah, you know what? Next time, I’ll do the same thing. And the time after that because this is what decent human beings do. That’s what good people do,” she snaps as you walk her away from Regina to help her cool down. Standing by the firetruck is Henry, talking to a firefighter.
“Did Emma really rescue my mom?” He asks with a small gleam of hope in his eyes. Regina gets placed onto a stretcher with an oxygen mask, ripping it off the mask when she hears him.
“Enough!” She shouts as she tries to sit up.
“Regina,” a Paramedic scolds, trying to get her to lay back down.
“I’m fine,” she declares as Sidney runs up to her, shoving his camera in her face.
“Nice shot of the victim?”
“Sidney? What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to hand this election to her?” She questions while pushing the camera away.
“But it’s news…” He whines.
“She’s the competition, you fool,” Regina scolds as Emma and other townsfolk including yourself gather around and talk.
“Did you really rescue Regina?” Mary Margaret asks in disbelief at the whole event.
“She did! The fireman said it. They saw it.” Henry announces proudly, bounding on the balls of his feet.
“You are a hero,” Ruby comments, clearly you’re not the only one to sneak out of work to investigate.
“We should see if they have a picture of the rescue.”
“We could make campaign posters.”
“Oh, people would love that! That’s a great idea. Wait, so…” Archie states as the group walk off, leaving the three of you.
“This is how good wins. You do something good and people see it, and then they want to help,” Emma points out while brushing off any ash.
“It does seem to be the effective strategy,” you jest.
“Maybe you’re right,” Henry smiles as he wipes some soot off her jacket.
“You see, Henry? We don’t have to fight dirty,” she affirms as you and Emma look back at the damage, noticing the same fabric that Mr. Gold was preparing in his shop when she spoke with him. You keep staring with a snarl, the smell taking you back to that night all those hundreds of years ago.
Mr. Gold is wiping his hands with a rag when Emma enters the pawn shop, holding up the fabric that you found at the firesite.
“Loads of visitors today. Do hope you’re not going to break my little bell,” he teases as he sets the rag down, looking at the cloth Emma holds.
“You set the fire.”
“I’ve been right here, Miss Swan,” he claims, playing his favourite innocent act.
“Take a whiff. It smells like your sheep crap oil. Turns out it’s flammable,” she orders while slamming that material on his counter.
“Oh. Are you sure? There’s some construction working on at City Hall at the moment. There’s loads of flammable solvents used in construction,” he attempts to explain away, but Emma clearly isn’t buying it.
“Why did you do it?”
“‘If’ I did it,” he corrects, “if I did it, that would be because you cannot win without something big. Something like, uh… Oh, I don’t know. Being the hero in a fire,” he suggests with a mischievous grin, enjoying everything about this.
“How could you even know I’d be there at the right time?”
“Maybe Regina’s not the only one with eyes and ears in this town. Or maybe… I’m just intuitive - were I involved,” he shrugs as he goes back to cleaning his hands.
“I could’ve run and left her there,” Emma points out.
“Not the type.”
“I can’t go along with this,” she argues, refusing to side with something so unethical just to win an election.
“You just did. This is just the price of election, Miss Swan.”
“A price I’m not willing to pay. Find another sucker,” she demands as she turns away.
“Okay, go ahead - expose me. But if you do, just think about what you’ll be exposing and what you’ll be walking away from.” He warns as she heads for the door. “Oh, yes. And, um… Who you might be disappointing.”
In The Enchanted Forest
Rumplestiltskin leads you and Baelfire to the base of the Duke’s castle as you set one of your torches alight and place it on a pile of straw. The fire catches immediately, roaring to life as it spreads up the castle walls, burning the wooden planks. Inside, the ceiling and rafters splinter and fall apart as Rumplestiltskin enters a room with several large flags hanging from the wall. He pulls one aside to reveal a dagger hanging behind it. With a light smile, he takes the dagger, seeing the name ‘Zoso’ carved into it. Now that the dagger is secured, he flees the quickly burning building.
In Storybrooke Maine, In The Real World
Townsfolk are waiting outside of the Town Hall, looking at a banner that hangs over the entrance, reading ‘Debate today - Sheriff’s election’. Mary Margaret is stapling posters promoting Emma on the bulletin board where she meets David, who is also putting up posters.
“David! Hi,” she greets while subconsciously fixing her posture.
“Mary Margaret. Hi,” he smiles while awkwardly flicking through his posters.
“I was just, uh…”
“Yeah, yeah. Me too.”
“How are things?” Mary Margaret asks after a moment, her voice sounding small as they avoid making eye contact.
“Okay. Oh, I got a job. Yeah, I’m working at the animal shelter,” he smiles and the job suits him, she thinks. It will make him happy.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“So. Sidney,” she comments with a hint of judgement, nodding to the posters David is holding.
“My wife is friends with Regina, so…” he mutters.
“Oh, right. How is Kathryn?” She asks, her smile slipping for a moment.
“Good. She’s meeting me here later.”
“That’s wonderful. Well, I’m all out of posters. I’m going to go get some more,” she shrugs and walks off in a hurry
Behind the scenes, Sidney is getting ready for the debate, fixing his collar while Archie practices his opening speech, forcing down any stumbles or stutters.
“Citizens of Storybrooke. Uh, we welcome you to, uh… Welcome, citizens of Storybrooke, uh… Uh, we welcome you, citizens of Storybrooke. Welcome, uh…”
Emma is waiting at her podium while you stand next to her, going over her points that you discussed as Mary Margaret comes up to you with a piece of paper and a bottle of water.
“I’m not going to win,” she sighs to the two of you.
What are you talking about? Everyone’s talking about what you did in the fire,” Mary Margaret points out.
“People are calling you a hero,” you add, but Emma shakes her head.
“No, Henry’s right - I can’t beat Regina at this. Not the way she fights. Watch and see.”
“Is this really just about beating Regina?” She questions with concern, leaning against her podium.
“It’s just…”
“Henry.” You answer for her, to which she nods.
“I just want to show him that good can actually win.”
“That’s why you want to win if for him, but why do you want to win the election for yourself?” Mary Margaret questions while forcing Emma to make eye contact with her, not letting her run away from this.
“That is why. I want to show him that a hero can win. And if I’m not… If I’m not a hero and I’m not the saviour, then what part do I have in his life?” She confesses, sighing, “okay. There it is.”
“There it is.”
In The Enchanted Forest
You and Baelfire sit behind a tree in the forest, keeping him awake, when Rumplestiltskin returns from the castle, dagger in hand.
“Papa!”
“Oh, Bae,” he smiles as he hugs his son and you give him a small smile, dreading what he feels he must do.
“I was so worried for you. Are… Are you burned? The castle-”
“I’m fine, son. I’m fine. I need you to go home and wait for me there,” he says as he holds Baelfire’s shoulders, keeping the boy looking at him.
“Come with me - please. I have a bad feeling,” he pleads.
“Bae, this is something I have to do on my own. Go home, son! Go home and wait for me, Bae. I’ll be back. You go,” he orders and Baelfire runs off, a lingering feeling that something is wrong hanging in his stomach. You remain standing there, staring down at him.
Rumplestiltskin pulls out the dagger and holds it in the light. “Zoso. Zoso. I summon thee!” He chants, but nothing happens and Rumplestiltskin lowers the dagger, turning around, he comes face to face with the Dark One and stumbles backwards, tripping on the mud.
“You were asking for me?” The haunting voice of the Dark One says.
“Submit, O Dark One! I control you!” Rumplestiltskin commands with a fake confidence.
“Yes, you do. Wield that power wisely. You can wield at any time now. It’s almost dawn. That means it’s your son’s birthday. I bet Hordor and his men are already on their way to your house,” he teases despite how he’s stuck in place by the dagger.
“No, they can’t take him.”
“You don’t control them - you control me. Have you ever wondered - was he really your child at all? Unlike you, he’s not a coward and yearns to fight and die in glory,” he taunts with only a sick grin in view from under his hood.
“No…”
“What a poor bargain that would be - to lay down your soul to save your bastard son. So, I ask you - what would you have me do?” The Dark One enquires, stepping closer to Rumplestiltskin.
“Die.” He orders as he stabs the Dark One with the dagger. The figure in the cloak falls to the ground laughing, revealing the face of the beggar who helped them.
“It’s you. You’re the beggar,” he says breathlessly.
“Looks like you made a deal you didn’t understand. I don’t think you’re going to do that again,” he smirks as he chokes on his own blood.
“You told me to kill you.”
“My life was such a burden. You’ll see. Magic always comes with a price and now, it’s yours to pay,” he chuckles, watching his blood leak into the dirt.
“Why me? Why me?”
“I know how to recognise a desperate soul,” he mutters as the life leaves his eyes.
“No! No! Stay! You have to tell me what to do! Tell me what to do!” He cries as his hand begins to change colour. Looking at the dagger again, he sees it now reading ‘Rumplestiltskin’.
In Storybrooke Maine, In The Real World
Archie stands up at the front of the stage, taking a deep breath before giving his speech.
“Tragedy brought us here, but we are faced with this decision. And now, we ask only that you listen with an open mind and to please vote your conscience. So, without further ado, I’d like to introduce you to the candidates - Sidney Glass and Emma Swan. Glass. Swan. Sounds like something that a decorator would make you buy,” he begins to stumble, no one laughs. “Wow, crickets. Okay, uh… Uh, Mr. Glass - your opening statement.”
Sidney smiles and walks up to the podium.
“I just want to say, that if elected, I want to serve as a reflection of the best qualities of Storybrooke. Honesty, neighbourliness, and strength. Thank you,” he announces and sits back down.
“And Emma Swan,” Archie announces and she walks up to the podium, taking a deep breath.
“You guys all know I have what they call a, uh… Troubled past. But, you’ve been able to overlook it because of the, um… Hero thing. But here’s the thing - the fire was a setup. Mr. Gold agreed to support me in this race, but I didn’t know that meant he was going to set a fire. I don’t have definitive evidence, but I’m sure. And the worst part of all this was - the worst part of all this is - I let you all think it was real. And I can’t win that way. I’m sorry,” she claims as Mr. Gold gets up from the audience and leaves.
Emma finishes off a drink at Granny’s Diner with Ruby behind the counter.
“Another?” She asks, already making her a drink.
“Oh, hell yes,” she nods as Ruby slides her the drink and Henry enters the diner, sitting next to Emma.
“Hey, Henry.” She mutters as he pulls out a walkie talkie from his book bag and hands it to Emma.
“What’s this for?”
“You stood up to Mr. Gold. It’s pretty amazing,” he smiles, very proud of her for being so brave.
“Well, he did something illegal.”
“That’s what heroes do - expose stuff like that. I shouldn’t have given up on Operation Cobra,” he laments as you come out from the kitchen and make Henry a cocoa.
Regina and Sidney enter the Diner, coming to a stop in front of them.
“I thought I might find you here. With a drink. And my son,” Regina grins, though it’s closer to a snarl.
“Here to card me, officer?” Emma quips to Sidney.
“Well, not at all. In fact, I think I’ll join you,” he sighs as he sits on a stool on the other side of Emma.
“Here? I don’t know. I think they’re setting up a back room for the victory party.”
“Oh, well, you’ll have to tell me what that’s like,” he chuckles before ordering a drink.
“Congratulations… Sheriff Swan,” Regina reluctantly grumbles as she places the Sheriff’s badge on the counter.
“Wait, what?” Henry asks excitedly while other people from Storybrooke file into the diner.
“It was a very close vote, but people really seem to like the idea of a Sheriff brave enough to stand up to Mr. Gold,” Regina relents, maintaining a semi-professional front.
“Are you joking?”
“She does not joke,” you chime in with a smile, enjoying the victory for Operation Cobra.
“You didn’t pick a great friend in Mr. Gold, Miss Swan, but he does make a superlative enemy. Enjoy that.”
In The Enchanted Forest
Hordor and the group of knights gather at Rumplstiltskin’s house, and they have Baelfire. You are nowhere to be seen.
“Everyone’s watching from behind their curtains today,” Hordor comments with a grin until one of the guards falls to the ground. Rumplestiltskin stands behind them with his dagger. He no longer looks human. Hordor kneels in front of him as you finally show up, ripping Baelfire from their arms as you both watch.
“Dark one.” He mutters as Rumplestiltskin walks towards him, “no… Who are you?”
“Have you forgotten me already? What was it you used to call me again? Spindleshanks? Hobblefoot?” He teases as he nears.
“Papa?”
“Rumplestiltskin…”
“Wonderful. And now, you shall know me as the new Dark One. How about a little fealty? Kiss my boot.” He demands with a large smile, taking pleasure in his newfound power, making you hold Baelfire tighter.
Hordor, however, bends over and grabs him, then stabs him with his dagger.
“No, Papa!” He screams while clinging onto you, unable to accept what’s happening in front of him. Ignoring his cries, Rumplestiltskin kills the rest of the knights with his dagger.
“Papa? What has happened to you?” He asks weakly as he walks over to you.
“You’re safe, Bae. Do you feel safe, son?” He questions wickedly.
“No. I’m frightened.”
“I’m not. I protected what belongs to me and I’m not scared of anything,” he chuckles as you push Baelfire behind you.
“You are a monster.”
In Storybrooke Maine, In The Real World
Emma walks into the station and to the Sheriff’s office where she notices a jacket hanging on the coat rack. Mr. Gold stalks in behind her.
“The Sheriff’s jacket - I thought you might want it after all,” he comments, spooking Emma.
“You do know I’m armed, right?”
“It’s all a part of the act, my dear. Political theatre in an actual theatre. I knew no one was going to vote for you unless we gave you some kind of extraordinary quality, and I’m afraid saving old Regina’s arse from the fire just wasn’t going to do that. We had to give you a higher form of bravery. They had to see you defy me - and they did,” he explains calmly, having planned every single step of this election.
“No way. There’s no way you planned that.”
“Everyone’s afraid of Regina, but they’re more afraid of me,” he chuckles, “by standing up to me, you won them over. It was the only way.”
“You knew I’d agree,” Emma mutters as it all clicks into place.
“Oh, yeah. I know how to recognise a desperate soul,” he repeats.
“Why did you do this?” She questions as she steps towards him.
“We made a deal some time back, Miss Swan. We established that you owed me a favour. I know that can be a bad feeling - owing someone. Now that you’re Sheriff, I’m sure we’ll find some way for you to pay back what you owe me. Congratulations.”
